


At the Cost of My Soul

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Flashback, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Some Fluff, thorin's funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Thorin's funeral, Bilbo has one last moment to look back to their first and last kiss — and to say goodbye to Thorin forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Cost of My Soul

The funeral ceremony had ended half an hour ago, but Bilbo still remained frozen on the spot; his eyes never leaving the stone tombs in the middle of the grand hall. It was dark in the burial chamber which was located in the deepest part of Erebor; it resembled more an amphitheater than a tomb. The only light came from a small hole in the ceiling, scarcely illuminating the stone coffins of Fili, Kili, and Thorin, leaving the rest of the chamber in sombre darkness. The overwhelmingly giant Dwarven figures supporting the platform had their gaze fixed on the tombs, like silent and watchful guardians of the dead.

Bilbo's body shook with a violent shudder; an act that had nothing to do with the eerie cold. He forced himself to go forward, every step a new hurdle that he had to overcome. The short walk to the stone coffins felt elusively long to him. As the motionless figures in front of him were slowly gaining more and more shape, Bilbo stopped. His eyes flickered first to Fili on the right; then to Kili on the left, for now unable to glance at the slightly elevated body in the middle. At the sight of the young princes he felt his heart constrict. Images flooded through Bilbo's mind in an instant; images of Fili desperately pleading them to leave, to let him die alone; Fili's chest being pierced by Azog's blade, Thorin's barely audible gasp, Fili's dead body landing right before Kili's feet...

Bilbo closed his eyes in an attempt to drive the thoughts from his mind and replace the gruesome memories with something, _anything_. He tried to picture Fili and Kili as they had been like when he had first met them; untroubled and happy, always reckless and proud and brave and so, so full of life. Bilbo opened his eyes again, beholding the lifeless bodies before him. They were so young. They didn't deserve this, any of this. But that was the nature of war, wasn't it? It didn't halt before youth and happiness, it devoured and destroyed anything its path; no matter the lost oppertunities it left behind, the words that would be left unspoken, the things that would now turn into loss and grief and regret.

As Bilbo's head turned to the right, he found himself unable to breathe. Thorin almost looked like he was sleeping; his blue eyes were closed, all remnants of the battle washed off his face. Bilbo couldn't help but think how young Thorin looked, how peaceful he appeared without his usual frown. Without even realizing, he had raised his hand, which was now inches before Thorin's motionless face. He hesitated, almost drawing it back. As his throat tightened and his vision was slowly starting to blur, Bilbo blinked rapidly, trying to force the tears away. No. He would not cry. Not now.

Gently, he caressed Thorin's cheek, his fingers tracing the soft skin, wandering over the fresh scar on Thorin's right eyebrow, to the crook of his nose, and the side of his mouth. He remembered how soft that mouth had been, how gentle and strong it could be at the same time. He had only kissed Thorin once, but everything he had felt when that mouth had touched his for the first and last time, was burned into the back of his mind. He had wanted to feel it again, but... But that had been before. Before Thorin— Before he— Despite his former resolutions, Bilbo let out a loud sob. His knees felt weak under him as he pressed his forehead against Thorin's and his hot tears fell down onto the motionless face beneath him.

* * *

_Thorin's face was unreadable. "I did not—"_

_Bilbo looked up to the Dwarf, cocking his head to the side. Thorin seemed to be struggling for the right words, his face all flustered. The sight before him was so unusual that Bilbo had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. He did manage to pull himself together - if he laughed at Thorin now, he would just walk away and not say whatever it was he was about to tell Bilbo. He was peculiar and stubborn in that way._

_"Yes?" His own voice sounded too high in his own ears. The festivities were still on-going; the laughter and cheer of the people of Lake-town scarcely audible in the distance. After some time Bilbo had decided that he had enough to drink and had made his way to a quiet corner - since they_ would _be, you know, facing a live dragon tomorrow. Well,_ he _would be facing the dragon. As their official burglar and all. Bilbo's head was spinning, maybe he did have too much to drink after all._

_Thorin cleared his throat. "What you said back there _—_ I did not know that you think so highly of me."_

_Something must had changed in Bilbo's face, because Thorin suddenly started to frown, looking ready to bolt and run the other direction at any given moment._

_"Why wouldn't I?"_

_Thorin stared back at him, his face gone blank._

_"Thorin." Bilbo took a step closer. "You are—" Now he was the one struggling for the right words. He took a deep breath. "You are the most—" He dared a quick glance at Thorin, whose mouth was now suspiciously twitching at its corners. "Don't laugh at me! I'm trying to be serious."_

_"You have this habit of stuttering whenever you are nervous," Thorin suddenly declared._

_"I— I what?"_

_Now it was Thorin's turn to step closer to Bilbo. He had never been_ this _close before, Bilbo realized as he felt Thorin's breath on his face, his radiating body heat a comforting presence in the snowfall. "You also have this quirk with your hands..."_

_Bilbo could do nothing but stand there quietly, looking up at the Dwarf, unable to speak, as Thorin took Bilbo's hand in his. It was dry and warm, sending tingles down Bilbo's spine._

_And this tick with your nose... You—" And at that Thorin laughed - actually_ laughed _at Bilbo. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen; the way Thorin's eyes lit up, the wrinkles that formed in the corners of his eyes, how not just his face, but his entire body was laughing with him._

_"Whenever you appear to think really hard, you actually wiggle your nose."_

_Aghast, Bilbo tried to protest. "I do not!" But Thorin threw his head back in laughter, and Bilbo couldn't help but smile back at him. "Fine. Maybe I do."_

_One of Thorin's braids had come undone, and almost by some unknown force, Bilbo felt his free hand reaching up, tucking the loose strand behind his ear. Thorin stopped laughing, his stare lingering on Bilbo with an intensity that made him tremble slightly._

_Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the prospect of imminent death tomorrow, maybe it was just his head losing against his heart, finally doing what it had wanted to for so long. His right hand still in Thorin's, Bilbo reached up, standing on the tip of his toes. He closed his eyes, and ever so slowly, he brushed his lips against Thorin's._

_He heard a small gasp escaping Thorin's mouth, and as Bilbo reluctantly pulled back, he opened his eyes, looking deeply into Thorin's blue ones. He remained completely stunned for a moment, and as he opened his mouth to speak, his face was a picture full of vulnerability, amazement and honesty._

_"Bilbo—" But whatever he was about to say got lost as he suddenly pulled Bilbo closer to him again, his hand at the back of his neck, his mouth crushing Bilbo's own with so much desperation and longing that Bilbo felt his knees go weak. But it didn't matter; as soon as he seemed to be slipping away, Thorin's large hand wandered from his neck to his back, lifting Bilbo up against the wall behind him._

_As if by instinct, Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin's hips, an involuntary, quiet moan escaping his lips. Thorin's mouth moved from Bilbo's lips to the corners of his mouth, to his earlobes, gently kissing them, then to the crook of his neck._

_"Amrâlimê..." Thorin murmured into Bilbo's skin._

_"What?" Bilbo managed to say, his voice quivering against Thorin's dark curls._

_"You cannot imagine how long I have wanted to do this." Thorin slowly removed his mouth from Bilbo's neck to look back at him, gently tracing the corners of his mouth with his thumb._

_"Thorin, I—" Before he could speak, he was interrupted by loud, approaching footsteps._

_Reluctantly, Thorin let Bilbo go, placing his feet firmly on the ground again._

_Dwalin turned around the corner, looking first at Thorin, then at Bilbo. He cast them a confused glance, and inconspicuously cleared his throat. "I hope I was not interrupting anything."_

_He looked back at Thorin, his eyes speaking lengths. "Thorin, Balin wants to speak to you. He said it's rather urgent."_

_Thorin looked like he seemed to fight the urge to groan out loud. "Can it not wait until tomorrow?"_

_"It's about Kili. He seems to have gotten worse."_

_Thorin glanced back at Bilbo, who was leaning breathlessly against the wall for support. "I understand. I will be there in a minute."_

_Dwalin nodded, and vanished around the corner, leaving Thorin and Bilbo alone again._

_"Bilbo—" Thorin started, but slowly regaining his breath, Bilbo cut him off._

_No. Go. It's fine." Thorin still seemed unsure, keeping his gaze fixed on Bilbo._

_Bilbo forced himself to smile. "You know, we have all the time in the world. After we defeat Smaug, and retake Erebor..." It was a far stretch, Bilbo knew, but right at that moment, everything seemed possible to him. "Later. We can continue this later. Until then..." He reached for Thorin's hand, bringing it to his lips, and gently kissing his knuckles. "We have something to look forward to."_

* * *

The tears were falling merciless, and Bilbo's entire body was shaking with brittle sobs. His forehead was still pressed against Thorin's, the mere touch the only thing that kept him from breaking down completely. "I wish..." he whispered against Thorin's motionless face, his voice hoarse and ragged. "I wish there had been more time."

Bilbo didn't know how long he stood there, mumbling incoherently, crying until there weren't any tears left anymore, holding onto Thorin as if he was the only thing that mattered in the world. Slowly, he forced himself to get up. He still couldn't tear his eyes away from Thorin, trying to memorize every single feature of the face before him.

Almost absentmindedly, Bilbo reached into his coat pocket, bringing forth the small acorn. It was strange how such a little object had been able to endure through so much perils, and still remain completely untouched and as beautiful as it had been when he had first laid his eyes on it in Beorn's garden. The memory felt so unreal and far away to him, like it belonged to another life.

Wordlessly, Bilbo placed the acorn into Thorin's hand. There was still so much he wished to say, to do, to make right... But it was over. He was gone.

_Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books, and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow._

"Farewell, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo said softly, as he gently brushed the Dwarf's forehead with his lips. He cast one last glance back at Thorin, before forcing himself to turn around and leave the burial chamber and half of his heart behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read and liked the story, please consider taking a few seconds to leave a comment. It always makes all those days spent with writing so much more worth it :)


End file.
